


Santa Baby

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Advent Calendar, Christmas Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5332958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Advent Prompt #1: One of them hiding an embarrassing injury from the other person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Santa Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of the Advent Challenge I'm doing daily through Christmas Eve. You can send your prompts [here](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/134229308195/i-decided-to-give-myself-a-bit-of-a-challenge-this).

“Hey,” Chris greets, smiling at the grainy image of Darren once their Skype call connects.

“Hey yourself,” Darren replies. He's sprawled out on the bed in his childhood bedroom, balancing his laptop on his lap. From the angle, Chris can see that his jeans are unbuttoned and his sweater is pushed halfway up his torso.

“I take it you had a good Thanksgiving dinner?” Chris asks, chuckling as Darren groans and rubs his stomach.

“I'm never eating again. Pretty sure the turkey got me pregnant.”

“God, thanks for that mental image, Dare.” Chris rolls his eyes.

“Why aren't you here? I needed you to save me from myself.” he whines. “I'm so full.”

“Isn't that kind of the point of Thanksgiving? And besides, even I'm powerless to stop you from overeating when your mom is the one doing the cooking, let's be real.”

“Probably true,” Darren agrees, barely stifling a yawn. “I still wish you were here, though.”

“I wish I was, too,” Chris sighs. He hates the strange melancholy that holidays are tinged with these days, because there's no way to please everyone simultaneously. He knows it's not permanent, that one day it'll all be out in the open and Darren can come to his parents's home for Thanksgiving and he can spend Christmas with the Criss family. Unfortunately, that knowledge doesn't really make the waiting any easier.

Darren stares at Chris's image reflected on the screen for a few seconds, and a moment of shared understanding passes between them. “You having a good time with your family?” he asks at last, wanting to steer the conversation back into happier waters.

“Yeah, guess so. We made way too many desserts, but I'm not exactly complaining about that.”

“Are they going to let me steal you away for Christmas?” Darren inquires casually.

Chris is taken aback. This is the first he's hearing of Darren's plans. “I... don't know? What did you have in mind?”

“Go away with me – just the two of us, okay?”

It's a really tempting proposition. Between Darren's filming and Chris's book tour, he's seen way too little of Darren lately, at least in person. “Where?”

“Hmm, I was thinking somewhere private and tropical. Maybe Fiji?” Darren suggests.

“Fiji? For Christmas?” Chris frowns. “Shouldn't we go somewhere snowy instead? Y’know, like somewhere more holiday appropriate?”

“What, like Keystone or Breckenridge? Do you _actually_ think letting a giant klutz like you anywhere near skis or ice is a good idea?” Darren teases.

“You raise an excellent point,” Chris laughs. “Spending Christmas in the ER isn't really high on my wish list.”

“Besides, if we do Fiji, we can get one of those private bungalows on stilts over the water. Maybe the kind of place where we could drink lots of daiquiris and forgo clothing for the entire trip,” he adds with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Well, _that_ part sounds good,” Chris grins.

“Is that a yes?” Darren presses. “Because something tells me if we don't book it now, it's not going to happen.”

“Alright, let's do it. But if my parents get pouty later, I'm totally telling them you kidnapped me,” Chris says.

“Deal.”

* * *

“Shit, you weren't kidding about this place,” Chris gasps as they slide open the glass door to their private bungalow at the resort. The bed is massive and takes up half the bedroom, done up in sumptuous bedding in a calming blue and white tropical print. Most of the walls are made of glass, giving amazing views of the ocean on one side and the white sandy shore on the other. There's even a small kitchen with a fridge, helpfully stocked with fresh fruit, bottled water, champagne, and a twelve pack of beer that Chris recognizes as one of Darren's favorite brands. The bathroom has a large jacuzzi tub that can definitely seat two and a skylight overhead that gives a small glimpse of puffy white clouds and clear blue sky.

“Pretty great, right? Aren't you glad I talked you into coming?” Darren says cockily.

“You did good,” Chris congratulates.

“Feel free to express your gratitude in whatever form you choose. Pretty sure blow jobs are an acceptable currency on the island,” Darren jokes.

“You're ridiculous,” Chris groans as he flops down on the bed. “It's gorgeous, but...”

“But?”

“It still doesn't really feel like Christmas. Or Christmas Eve, in this case,” Chris admits.

“Well, I think I've got something to help with that.” Darren reaches into his small carry-on bag and after rummaging around for a moment, pulls out a small red and white felt Santa hat and puts it on his head. “Now, who wants to come sit on Santa's lap?”

Chris bursts into a slightly hysterical fit of laughter, probably helped along by the long flight and killer jet lag. “You are such a dork.”

“Don't you want to find out if you're on Santa's naughty or nice list?” Darren purrs.

“Would you hate me if I wanted to take a nap first?” Chris asks.

“I could never hate you,” Darren promises. “I wanted to go explore anyway. Maybe test out the hammock? Get a little sun?”

“Sounds like a plan. And rain check on the sexy times? I seem to remember you promising me quite a lot of nakedness on this trip,” Chris grins sleepily.

“Oh honey, no worries. I  _definitely_ plan to deliver on that.”

* * *

“Is there something wrong? Or did you just take ten hits of straight caffeine?” Chris asks Darren over dinner a few hours later. They decided to be civilized and take the small boat to the holiday dinner at the resort, but Darren's been nonstop fidgeting since Chris woke up from his nap, bouncing around from place to place, constantly shifting in his seat.

“I'm fine. Just excited to be in Fiji!” Darren says a little too brightly.

“Ooo-kay, if you say so,” Chris murmurs suspiciously. He watches Darren lean forward on one elbow on the table and nearly send his fork and knife clattering to the floor as a result. He drops back into his chair and winces.

“Did you sunburn your ass? Is that why you can't sit still?” Chris presses. “I  _told you_  that even you'd need sunscreen here.”

“No, I didn't. I wasn't out in the sun that long,” Darren replies evasively. He redistributes his weight to the other side uncomfortably and then downs half his glass of wine in a single gulp.

“Alright Criss, out with it. You promised me sex tonight, so I'm kind of going to need to know about any ass related injuries you might have,” Chris points out.

Darren looks over his shoulder, seeming paranoid that the couple at the next table might overhear their conversation. He flushes beet red and drops his face to his hands. “It's really dumb. You're going to laugh at me.”

“Probably. Unless you're really hurt, in which case I'm going to yell at you for not telling me sooner,” Chris replies with a shrug.

“So uh, it did involve naked sunbathing...” Darren finally admits with a deep sigh of shame. “But I'm not sunburned.”

“Alright, so what  _did_  it involve, then?”

“...wood?” Darren mumbles, head in hands.

“Wood? Like the double entendre kind, or...?”

“No, like I was laying out on the wooden deck and got a splinter in a place where you _really_ don't want a splinter,” Darren moans, blushing.

“I'm going to need you to be more specific,” Chris prompts, biting his lip to keep in his laughter. “Like are we talking in the asscheek or...?”

“Yeah,” Darren responds miserably.

“Right or left?” Chris wonders aloud.

“Um... right? Why does that matter?” Darren asks.

“Just want to make sure I have all the relevant details before I text our mutual friends to share the whole sordid story,” Chris tells Darren, then dissolves into a fit of giggles.

“You  _wouldn't_ ,” he grumbles.

“I might,” Chris teases.

“Chris, shut up, it hurts! Like no joke, there's half a deck plank shoved in my skin, okay?” Darren whines.

“...and what do you want me to do about it, exactly?” Chris inquires, with an appraising raise of his eyebrow.

“Fix it?” Darren requests pathetically.

“Here? Are you expecting me to drag you into the men's room and dig it out or are you just going to drop your pants at the dinner table?”

“I was thinking more like we take care of this in the hotel room, assuming you brought tweezers with you,” Darren responds. “I don't know how much longer I can handle sitting down, to be completely honest.”

“God, I hope you bought me a really good Christmas present this year, because this is totally going above and beyond the call of boyfriend duty,” Chris pouts.

“I'll definitely find a way to make it up to you, I promise,” Darren vows.

* * *

“Alright, I think I cobbled together a decent first aid kit,” Chris announces as he walks out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where Darren is laying face down on the bed. “C'mon, pants off. Let me see what we're dealing with.”

Darren sighs but sits up enough to unbutton his jeans. He wiggles his pants and boxers down his thighs to expose his injury.

Chris flicks on the lamp and sits down on the side of the bed next to Darren. “Ouch,” he murmurs, looking at the large splinter and angry looking scratch.

“No kidding,” Darren moans. “I tried to dig it out but I couldn't really see what I was doing so I think I just made it worse.”

“Yeah, it looks like it's really in there good,” Chris agrees. “I found some hydrogen peroxide, but it's probably going to sting, okay?”

“Is it too late to take a few shots of tequila first?” Darren wonders, half kidding.

“You had like, three glasses of wine at dinner. You'll be fine,” Chris soothes. Before he loses his nerve, he tentatively swipes a peroxide soaked cotton ball over the abrasion. Darren sucks in a sharp breath and tenses up a little, but doesn't say anything.

“Still alive?” Chris asks a minute later once he finishes thoroughly sterilizing the area.

“More or less,” Darren reassures him.

“Okay, so I Googled and apparently you're supposed to remove a splinter the same way it went in. Any chance you know which way that was?” Chris asks.

“Uh well, I was laying out on my back first and then I got into trouble when I rolled over to tan the other side, so probably this way?” Darren replies, gesturing in a general upwards trajectory.

“Gotcha,” Chris says. “Be glad you didn't get a splinter in your dick instead.”

“Now that would have been a true tragedy,” Darren shudders in horror. “Pretty sure if I had, my scream would have woken up the entire island.”

“Seems likely,” Chris laughs. “Alright, ready?”

“Not really, but go ahead anyway.”

Chris grabs the end of the splinter with the edge of the tweezers and carefully begins trying to tug it out. It takes several attempts and a solid minute of digging into Darren's skin before he manages to remove the whole thing. “Okay, all done, baby. I promise,” he soothes once it's over.

“Fucking hell,” Darren swears under his breath. “I mean you're amazing and bless you for doing it, but still... owwww.”

“You did good. I'd totally give you a lollipop for being a big boy if I had one to give,” Chris teases.

“I think I'll settle for some champagne instead. Can I put my pants back on now?”

“Nope,” Chris admonishes. “You need a bandaid first. And then I think you'd planned on showing me just how grateful you are that I stepped up to play doctor, remember? Definitely won't need pants for that.”

“Ahh, I see,” Darren breathes, turning his head to look at Chris over his shoulder with wide, dark eyes. “I assume you have something in mind?”

“Several things, actually,” Chris hints. “At least one of which you'll need your Santa hat for.”

“Oh yeah?” Darren grins. “Naughty list it is, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you'd like to share the fic on Tumblr, you can do so by reblogging the original post which can be found [here](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/134372081510/santa-baby). And as always, feedback is very much welcomed, especially this month while I'm trying to stay motivated to write, edit, and publish a fic a day :)


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